


Morning Glories

by nihonlove



Series: ongoing connection [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Boners, Awkwardness, Bathing/Washing, Episode: s01e01 The Rise of Voltron, Hair Washing, Hugs, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Keith (Voltron)'s Shack, M/M, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, More Adam Salt, POV Shiro (Voltron), POV Third Person Limited, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Scars, Season/Series 01, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron), for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihonlove/pseuds/nihonlove
Summary: Shiro wakes up in a small house in the desert to the beauty of Earth and his now-grown best friend.





	Morning Glories

**Author's Note:**

> So originally I planned on writing the fics in this series in chronological order, but then s8 happened and I needed some sweet Sheiths rather than more of Keith's sad pining :/. Besides, I have a feeling the Hunk fic is gonna be long and I needed to do something a little shorter before then :). So we're throwing chronological order out of the window. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to meoqie for beta-reading this! ❤︎.

He dreams of purple lights, ominous in their dim brightness in the midst of a dark empty void. He feels like there is something he should be running from, an itch beneath his skin, a tightness in his throat from fear, but he can’t make himself move. Cold surrounds him from all sides, seeping down into his very bones and freezing him from both inside and out, constricting his lungs. Flashes of images he can’t quite make out or make sense of pass over him. His arm hurts, his head hurts, his whole body  _ hurts _ , and he can’t tell if it’s more due to pain or fear. His heart hammers in his ears, in his chest, in his whole body, vibrating.

The last thing he sees is the flashing gaze of angry yellow eyes. Shiro lets out a gasp, sitting up forcibly. His breathing comes out erratic. The image of those yellow eyes lingers, feeling like they’re still following him, watching his every move to exploit any noticeable weakness. The thought of those eyes circles in his mind over the sensation of his heavily beating heart, his swimming head, his shaking body, damp with cooling sweat.

“Shiro?” is the first thing he hears from somewhere to his side. The sound of it makes him nearly jump, to get his legs ready for flight or fight beneath the strangely soft blanket exuding an oddly comforting, almost familiar smell. The voice that spoke is also familiar, as though Shiro had heard it once in a beautiful dream that was then tortured out of his very skull until he couldn’t even have that for comfort anymore.

A dark-haired head slowly peeks out from over the side of the most comfortable bed Shiro’s known. The hair is quickly followed by the appearance of the rest of a face, the strands framing the violet, unique eyes that seem to contain entire galaxies in the soft natural light of the space they’re in. The sight of those eyes makes Shiro’s breath catch in his throat.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it, or even think it – can’t quite bring himself to believe this is real and not yet another trick or punishment – but he knows he could never mistake those eyes. No matter how much they tried, no matter everything else they took from Shiro – they couldn’t make him forget about those eyes and the person they belong to. Not when the thought of him was sometimes the only thing that kept Shiro going, even at the darkest moments.

Shiro can’t help the way those eyes meeting him over the edge of the bed seems to draw him in, like a spell he can’t escape from. He wouldn’t even want to if he could. He shuffles a little closer to the side of the bed, desperate for a closer look; for a chance to touch and make sure he’s real, that he’s really here and not some sort of a cruel illusion. Shiro’s heart keeps pounding in his chest, but it’s not entirely unpleasant anymore.

“Keith…” Shiro murmurs, the name of the boy before him tasting like the sweetest nectar on his tongue. He greedily drinks in the sight of his friend starting to untangle himself from a sleeping bag on the floor. 

“Shiro,” Keith says again, his tone softer and more tender than Shiro thinks he’s ever heard it, that oh so familiar sparkle starting in his eyes. The sight of it makes it easier for Shiro to trust that Keith is real somehow. He doesn’t think anyone could mimic the way Keith seems almost as scared as Shiro to do anything but look at the other for the fear it might all just be a dream or an illusion that could vanish with one false move quite this extent. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Keith breathes as he gets to halfway on his feet so he can stay at Shiro’s eye level and constantly meet his gaze. Shiro can’t tear his eyes away from Keith either, can’t stop himself from taking him in, memorizing every detail anew.

Shiro can see now that Keith’s face appears a little different the way he blurrily remembers it, but Shiro supposes that can be allotted to time passed. Keith has lost the remainders of baby fat on his face, his features grown angular and sharp like the edge of a knife. His eyes are warm, big and more beautiful than ever though, his dark hair soft and long at his nape, his eyebrows strong and expressive. The sight of him is enough to fill Shiro’s chest with uncontainable warmth.

Keith moves in a slow, deliberate manner, like Shiro is a spooked animal. Shiro almost feels like one too, a deep sense of unsettlement still churning in the pit of his stomach. Shiro follows Keith with his eyes, hoping against hope it might bring him some comfort, something better to think about. It works to a degree, the warm comfort spreads through him, starting to overwhelm the feeling of unease and push it back Shiro takes in the rest of Keith’s form.

But it’s not all that happens, as Shiro’s cheeks begin to heat up as he looks at Keith more closely. Shiro has to swallow forcibly around the sudden tightness in his throat as he takes in Keith’s long legs that go on for miles, their length accentuated even further by the fact he’s only wearing shorts and a red t-shirt for sleeping. He’s gotten taller while Shiro’s been away, but he still appears slight for his age, slender to the point of being skinny with his unbelievably narrow waist, but it’s not in the awkward, gangly way it was when Shiro last saw him. Keith seems like he’s grown into his proper form, wiry and graceful like a cat, completely in control of his own body.

Keith had been a sweet-faced teen; cute in a way that made it easy to guess he was going to be quite the heartbreaker when he grew up. But to actually see that, see  _ him _ , with Shiro’s very own eyes, after all this time away, all grown-up and beautiful and radiant like the morning sun…

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks gently, snapping Shiro back at attention. He’s still hovering by, not sitting on the bed but not quite standing either, just looking at Shiro like he can’t get enough of doing so.

In other circumstances, Shiro can’t help but think he’d be a little flattered a beautiful boy like that paying so much attention to him. As it is though, all Shiro can do is to look away, to try and clear out his muddled thoughts. The strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that keeps tugging at his nerve endings, making his heart beat to a tune that seems to say  _ not safe, not safe, not safe _ .

How long has he been gone, anyway, for Keith to look so different? Shiro knows the journey to Kerberos alone took months, and more time must’ve passed since then. Keith must be over eighteen now, starting to leave his teen years behind and mature into a young adult in his prime. He’s only four and a half years Shiro’s junior. When Shiro first met Keith, that had seemed so big of a gap, with the way Keith was so small and vulnerable at the start of their acquaintance, added further to by the fact Shiro was still with Adam at the time, but now…

“Shiro?” Keith says softly, leaning in a bit closer, his eyes vibrant with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“N-no, I…” Shiro murmurs, feeling his cheeks heat up. He can’t believe he’s been thinking of Keith’s new appearance for so long that Keith had to worry. “I’m fine, I just…” He licks his lips, raising his eyes to look at Keith properly as he gives him a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Keith chuckles, hanging his head in a way that hides his eyes behind his long bangs, but Shiro can hear the light sob mixed in the forced laugh. “That’s  _ my  _ line.”

A surge of protectiveness and anger courses through Shiro like a burst of fire, and he bites his teeth together, clutching the blanket still covering his legs in tight fists. He can only imagine what Keith’s been through in this time, what he must’ve thought, what he must’ve felt. Not only was Shiro gone, so were Matt and Sam, whom Shiro knows Keith also cared for deeply for their kindness towards him. Keith must’ve thought they were all gone, lost to him like his father, like his mother, like so many people he’s cared about in his life.

Shiro knows he left Keith on Earth with other people in his life, including the other half of the Holt family. But he still can’t imagine the loss wouldn’t have taken its toll on his best friend. What did the Garrison tell him happened anyway? Shiro figures they wouldn’t have told anyone the truth, if they even know it.

Shiro can’t know for sure without asking, but he can make a couple of educated guesses on what they said, who and what they blamed. The thought makes the inside of his mouth taste sour.

On impulse, Shiro reaches out a hand – his flesh one, the one still marked with Keith’s soulwords, thank the Gods – and touches Keith’s right shoulder. Shiro can just barely see Keith’s own soulmark peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. He covers them with his hand, not unlike that first time when the words on their skin were formed, gently pulling Keith down to finally take a seat on the bed by Shiro’s legs.

As Keith raises his eyes again, giving Shiro a teary, wobbly smile, Shiro can’t stop himself. He reaches out his other, artificial arm as well, gently pulling Keith to his body, almost half on top of him if not for his legs. Keith releases a muffled sound that might be another laugh or a sob into Shiro’s chest, before wrapping his own slender arms around Shiro’s torso.

As he tucks his head into the crook of Shiro’s neck, trembling, Shiro almost wants to cry himself. Keith feels so warm against him, like the first real rays of the spring sun after months of cold grey winter. His long hair tickles Shiro’s nose, smelling so good just like the rest of Keith – familiar and comforting, like the first warm drink in the morning to wake you up. It sends shivers down Shiro’s spine, makes his throat close up, his eyes burn.

Shiro squeezes him tighter, letting out a few quick and trembling breaths to try and gather himself. Keith still feels so small, so thin and vulnerable in his arms.

Desperate for something else to think about, to do, to distract himself from how  _ much  _ all of it suddenly is, Shiro lets his eyes roam the space he and Keith are in, finally taking it properly in now that he’s not eclipsed by the sight of Keith or by his own fear and discomfort with seemingly everything.

They’re in some sort of small attic room, judging by its A-shaped, two-sided ceiling. There are two round windows at each end of the room, letting in some natural soft light the room is enveloped in, as well as a little door to the side. The room itself is just barely big enough to fit the bed Shiro’s resting in when it comes to the width, and Shiro’s not confident he’d be able to sit straight even at its tallest point without bumping his head. But he also estimates Keith’s smaller form might fit just fine, and that’s probably what matters more.

“What is this place?” Shiro asks softly into Keith’s shoulder. He doesn’t move to let go of him. He’s not ready yet.

“My house,” Keith replies, equally soft, into Shiro’s shoulder. The vibrations of his voice on his skin make it difficult for Shiro to keep down a shiver. “It was a part of my Dad’s estate.”

Shiro nods slowly, musingly, still holding onto Keith tight. Keith must’ve inherited this place on his eighteenth birthday, just like his father had always meant for him to.

“Shiro…” Keith murmurs, as Shiro feels him starting to pull back from their embrace. He loosens his arms around Keith, letting him go if he so wishes. He misses the feeling, the warmth of him as soon as Keith puts a bit of distance between them, even though it’s only enough for Keith to look him in the eyes, still keeping his arms lightly around Shiro. “Do you remember what happened? Do you know how you got here?”

Shiro blinks, frowning, as flashes of images, of feelings of fear and panic and frustration pass through him like a reel on a movie screen. A part of it feels almost detached to him now, his head still feeling so out of place. Everything feels muted. Keith is the only exception, the only thing that seems solid and true.

But that doesn’t mean Shiro doesn’t remember. The Garrison personnel, all in hazmat suits, strapping him down, drugging him, refusing to listen to him…

“The Garrison,” he says, lowering his eyes down to his blanket-covered lap between his and Keith’s bodies. “They captured me when I landed, didn’t they?”

He can see Keith nod in his peripheral vision. “We rescued you, and then brought you here, so we’d be safe,” he says.

“’We?’” Shiro asks, raising his eyes to meet Keith’s in surprise. He can’t even remember Keith being there, let alone someone else.

“Hunk, Lance and…” Keith pauses, licks his lips, before averting his eyes a little too innocently. “Another Garrison student.”

Shiro blinks. Keith’s never been the most apt liar, especially not with him, when he’s always been able to read Keith so easily. Shiro can’t imagine what reason Keith may have to conceal something from him now, but he’s willing to trust in him to tell him if it becomes relevant. No matter what, no matter all that has happened, Shiro knows he can trust Keith to never lie to him unless it was something important.

“And they’re all here as well?” Shiro chooses to ask instead.

“Yeah,” Keith says, nodding again. “They’re probably still asleep downstairs. It’s quite early. I gave them some blankets and sleeping bags for the night.”

“But how?” Shiro breathes. “How did you even know to come save me when I crashed?”

Keith bites his lip, averts his eyes again, this time in a fashion that is more familiar to Shiro; it’s the way he used to do it when he wasn’t quite sure how to say something, or if he should say it in the first place.

“It’s a long story,” Keith begins. “I’d rather explain it to all of you at once. It’ll be easier if I show you, anyway.” Keith looks up at Shiro again. “For now though, while the others are still sleeping, I thought you might like to wash up and change. I have a functional shower downstairs.”

Shiro feels like he could cry for the second time this morning at the mere thought of a hot shower. He can’t even remember the last time he had one, only able to conjure up vague memories of harsh cold water being poured down on him to keep him at least somewhat clean and healthy.

“I’d love that,” Shiro breathes, already starting to untangle himself from the blankets to get going.

“Will you manage by yourself? Or do you need me there?” Keith says, getting to his feet as well, this time standing up straight. As expected, he just about fits without his head bumping in the ceiling at the room’s tallest point, but Shiro needs to keep his knees and head bent a little to be able to fit.

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro says. He still feels a little disoriented, but he’s also not exactly comfortable with the idea of Keith watching him shower, for more than one reason.

“I’ll wait for you outside the bathroom,” Keith says as he steps over to the small door at the side of the room, opening it gently to the bright open skies, before stepping outside. Shiro follows at his heels, making sure to duck beneath the low door, landing at the top of a sturdy wooden staircase leading down to the ground.

As soon as Shiro finally steps outside though, he barely has the mind to care about any of that, each and every one of his senses suddenly far too preoccupied by the area around him, below him. Keith’s house is clearly built somewhere right in the middle of the desert, with nothing but sand and stone in sight for miles. The sun is just starting to rise up on the horizon, enveloping everything around Shiro in its warm golden light, making the sand glimmer below him. The familiar desert wind that Shiro hadn’t even realized how much he missed blows through his hair, filling his nose with the rusty smell of the landscape, brushing at his skin like a caress of a lover.

Shiro takes in a deep breath, smelling it, taking it all in, even as he can feel himself begin to tremble. Earth is so beautiful. He can’t believe he got to see it, see all of this, again.

Shiro lets himself enjoy all of it for a bit, before starting to make his way down the stairs where Keith is waiting for him patiently. He can’t quite make himself take his eyes off the landscape around them as he goes, though. Aside from when he was holding Keith before, looking at it seems to be the only thing that can bring him even the slightest notion of peace right now.

As Shiro reaches the bottom of the steps, he can feel the sand moving beneath his weight and his feet, even through the fabric of the dark full-body suit he has on. He can feel the coolness of the sand from the night, the roughness of its texture against his soles and toes. He always hated walking on sand in the past, but now all he can think of is how much he’d like to just feel it against his bare feet, just from the joy of knowing he can.

Shiro steps from one foot to the other, testing his weight and the feel of how the sand shifts underneath him, how it forms according to the shape of his feet even without penetrating his suit. He can’t help the smile that breaks out on his lips, the little laugh that escapes his mouth, feeling lighter than he has in what must be years.

Shiro lifts his eyes to direct his smile to Keith, to share his newfound joy with him. Keith returns the smile with a soft one from where he’s leaning against the side of what looks like the back of a shed. The early morning sun reflects back at Shiro in Keith’s eyes, creating stars in the nebulae of them, making his hair shine and his face glow. The sight of Keith like this makes Shiro’s heart throb, his beauty almost inhuman and yet so familiar and dear, like a guardian angel guiding him to the light from the murkiness of his own mind.

“Come on,” Keith says gently, still smiling, his tone indicating to Shiro very clearly they’re not in any real hurry, if he wants to take everything in for a bit longer. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Shiro follows Keith to the front side of the house, still listening in the crunch of the sand beneath both of their feet as he does. He a brief moment to take the sight of the house in as he comes in proper view of it. It’s rustic and definitely small; Shiro would be surprised if the downstairs has more than one room. But the front porch has a certain charm to it, complete with a bench for sitting.

Keith moves to open the door to the shed. As Shiro peers inside, he sees that it’s actually a bathroom with a blue tiled floor, an overhead shower, a toilet and a sink complete with a mirror and a cupboard.

“You can go in,” Keith says, gesturing inside the space with his hand. “Get yourself ready and all.” His cheeks become a little flushed at his words, and Shiro feels his breath catch again at the sight of it.

“I’ll bring you some clothes,” Keith continues, though he can’t quite meet Shiro’s eyes. “There should be towels and other things you might need inside though.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says sincerely, if a little breathlessly, as he turns on his heel and steps inside.

As soon as the door closes softly behind him, Shiro gets to work at removing the horrid full-body suit he’s been wearing for Gods know how long. Now that he has the chance to take it off, it suddenly feels suffocating with the way it stretches over his skin, like it doesn’t want to let him go. Shiro has to take a few deep breaths as he fights his way out of the fabric, and even still it takes him far more effort and sweat than he likes to get it to finally fall at his feet. He quickly kicks it off to the side with disgust. If he can at all avoid it, he doesn’t want to so much as see the suit ever again.

Shiro’s still breathing a little hard and feeling sweat collect at the back of his neck as he realizes something else. The way he looks, the way his body feels beneath his hands and fingers…it’s different than he remembers it from when he was on Earth last. His muscles feel harder, bigger; his skin coarser. His right arm not being his own is no surprise – he may not quite be able to remember how it became the way it is now, but the thought of it being a prosthetic feels familiar and known to him, though no less bitter.

There are no pulses of pain to the arm now, none of the spasms Shiro had grown to expect from his flesh more and more as he matured. All there is is the numbness, the weight and the coldness of it. But his body…

With a hard swallow and a heartbeat he feels down to the bottom of his feet, Shiro lets his eyes roam down his form, taking in whatever he can of it from this angle. What he comes in sight of is almost nothing but scars – big ones, small ones, old ones, new ones, but all over his body. Before he can even think about it, let alone stop himself, Shiro turns to get a better look at himself in the mirror above the sink.

What he sees stills his blood, his limbs, his body down to his very core. The only thing that stays in motion is his heart, which becomes an almost deafening drum in his ears.  

Shiro barely recognizes the man looking back at him in the mirror. He has one large, vivid scar cutting across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, his previously completely dark hair turned shockingly white in the front. The scars really do cover his whole body, there’s no denying that. His muscles are definitely bigger, harder, more defined than they were when he left Earth as well. Shiro was never a slacker when it came to exercise, to taking care of his body – he couldn’t afford to be, not if he wanted to maintain his peak condition and keep his career going for as long as he possibly could, but…the state his body is in now is beyond anything he ever even tried to attempt. It’s like there is barely any fat left on his body, all of it hardened and roughened by time and unknown forces.

And that’s the other thing. Despite the clear new strength of his muscles, of his body, there is a distinct weariness to Shiro’s appearance now that wasn’t there before, despite his ALS. His face in his reflection looks white as a sheet, his eyes a little red from unshed tears and his exhaustion. Shiro looks so much older than he feels like he should be. How old is that even at this point? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? 

What in the world could’ve happened to Shiro that made him look like this? What could’ve caused him to change so drastically in appearance? What was done to him? What did  _ he  _ do to get to this point?

Shiro’s heart rate keeps increasing in his chest, and he feels his pulse in his entire body. His thoughts run in circles in his mind. He can barely stand, can barely breathe. His throat feels constricted, keeping in everything except the small hitched breaths that only serve to make Shiro feel dizzy. Everything feels like so much and yet so little at the same time, the world becoming a blur around him and the the cold tiles of the bathroom floor cutting like knives against his bare, scarred feet. The whole room is so small that Shiro thinks he could easily suffocate in it, use up all the air, with the way the walls are closing in on him, seeping its coldness beneath his skin and right down to his core.

There is a knock on the door, and Shiro just barely manages a deep breath inside for the distraction it gives him.

“Shiro?” Keith’s kind, wonderful, familiar voice sounds through into the bathroom. “I brought you some clothes.”

Shiro can’t move. He can’t bring himself to open his mouth, to answer. He’s still completely frozen in place from the moment he first looked in the mirror. All he has are his circling thoughts, his hitching small breaths that alone seem to require as much of him as running a marathon would.

“Shiro?” Keith says again, followed by another gentle knock on the door. “Are you okay? I don’t hear the shower.”

Shiro wants more than anything to tell Keith he’s okay, wants to be able to go to the door and pick up the clothes Keith brought him, but it feels like his whole being has grown stiff like a statue. His tongue feels dried and stuck in his mouth, his feet stuck to the ground, unable to move so much as a toe.

Throughout his life, Shiro has grown intimately familiar and used to pain, to his muscles spasming and not doing quite what he wants them to do. He’s known frustration with his body, with his pain, sometimes to the point of rage that he only kept inside through meticulous training and self-management. But it’s never been like this.

Distantly, he’s aware that he might be having a panic attack.

“Shiro, I’m coming in,” he hears Keith say, and before he can so much as think of a response, Keith opens the door to the bathroom.

The sight of him, the fast pace of the situation, finally allows Shiro to find his voice, a soft, “Keith, don’t…” escaping him, even as Shiro knows it’s already too late, and Keith has seen what Shiro now knows about himself.

Still, for the sake of at least trying to preserve some of the kindness, of the friendship between them, Shiro manages to wrap his strangely big arms around his strangely big torso in an almost desperate attempt to shield himself from Keith’s eyes. Strangely, he’s not even that embarrassed Keith’s seeing him naked in general for the first time now, despite his earlier reservations. He just doesn’t want Keith to witness the proof of what Shiro has clearly become, to feel the disgust and the sense of wrong Shiro feels knowing what his body looks like now. If nothing else, he’d wished to remain that person he was before he left in Keith’s eyes. Perhaps then he could’ve at some point rediscovered that man for himself in Keith’s faith as well, like Keith had found his own true self through Shiro once.

“Shiro…” Keith breathes, his eyes growing wide as he stands in the doorway, his hand still on the handle as he takes in Shiro’s form, his mouth falling open. He stands equally still in place with shock as Shiro, but that hardly makes him feel any better.

Shiro lowers his head, forcing himself to look down at his feet rather than see the look of disgust on Keith’s face when the reality of what he’s seeing finally really hits him. He can’t say anything in his own defense, not when Keith can see the truth written on his body. He can’t even ask Keith not to look, not when Keith has been nothing but good and kind to him this whole time, and a good friend to him before any of this happened as well. He has no right to try and hide this from Keith, not when he’s been staying in Keith’s own house, abusing his hospitality, after Keith rescued him and has only wanted to help. Keith should be allowed to make his own calls and judgements based on the whole truth.

Shiro can’t hide from Keith. He still can’t lie to him.

“Oh, Shiro…” Keith murmurs, and before Shiro can so much as breathe, Keith closes the small distance between them in an instant. He doesn’t even seem to care that he’s let the pile of black clothes he was carrying fall down on the floor as he goes. Keith just settles himself against Shiro’s bare back, gently moving to wrap his arms around his waist and lower torso, around Shiro’s own arms still around his body as if they’re the only things holding him together in this moment.

Shiro lets out a long, shuddering breath as he feels Keith’s touch again, pressed so tightly against him like a warm blanket at his back. Keith’s warmth seeps inside of Shiro, replacing the icy coldness that was there before and settling him just enough that he can breathe again. He shudders at the contrast of Keith’s heat and the previous frozen tundra within him. Keith is almost too warm, a fire that sends waves of heat through Shiro’s body everywhere that they touch, melting the stiffness from his limbs until he feels like he can move again.

The first thing Shiro does with his rediscovered mobility is to grasp onto Keith’s slender hands with his own, to hold his thin arms in place. Shiro’s not quite certain he deserves to touch Keith like this, not with the way he looks and all that that might mean for him, but he can’t stop himself. Not when Keith once again feels like the only solid anchor he has in the world; the only thing still keeping him together, preventing him from breaking into pieces. And not when he knows Keith would take his lack of reciprocation as a sign of rejection, of his presence and touch being unwanted.

“Keith…” Shiro murmurs, his throat still tight, his eyes burning. “How can you stand to touch me like this? How can you even look at me?”

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs into his back, the vibrations of his voice causing Shiro to shiver. “There’s nothing in the world, in the universe, that could make me give up on you. Definitely not a few scars.”

Shiro lets out a tearful chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s more than a few.”

“All I wanna know is if you’re okay,” Keith says, ignoring him. “How did all of this even happen?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says, not sure which part of what Keith said he’s responding to. “All I can remember are bits and pieces. My head is…” He swallows, taking a breath before continuing, “I was on an alien ship, and somehow I escaped…but that’s all I know.”

Shiro feels Keith stiffen against his back, no doubt a little shocked by this revelation. He almost expects Keith to ask him more about it, but all that comes out is a soft, “I saw the arm and the scar on your face and your hair,” before Keith tightens his hold around Shiro even further. “I just didn’t…I didn’t expect…”

“Neither did I,” Shiro says, moving to hold onto Keith tighter as well. “But I didn’t expect you either.”

“Of course I was gonna come for you,” Keith says, and there’s a determined edge to his voice. “You’re my soulmate after all. And I don’t know if it was because of that or something else, but...I always knew you weren’t gone.” He lets out a soft, almost sad chuckle. “I’m always gonna come for you.  _ As many times as it takes _ , right?”

Shiro lets out another teary chuckle. He’s not sure if he’s happy or sad to hear Keith say his soulwords for the first time now of all times, considering the circumstances. Is this what they referred to; that Keith would always be there for him no matter what, to help him and rescue him? Is it supposed to be some sort of a repayment of the way Shiro first helped him, just so he can pay Shiro back the way he always said he would?

If it is, Shiro’s not so sure he wants it.

He doesn’t ask though, doesn’t dare to. He doesn’t want to break this moment, not when he’s just only barely managed to calm down. Instead, Shiro focuses in on Keith’s warmth, his small body at his back, the way he holds Shiro so tight and so tender at the same time, all the while willing his heart rate to go down and his breathing even out. There are still far too many questions about what exactly happened to him for him to look like this, but he tells himself he can’t worry about that too much for the moment. Not when there is no way for him to get answers right now. What he can do, though, is finally wash away the physical dirt that still lingers to remind him of whatever he’s been through, however subconsciously. 

“You can let go now, Keith. I’m fine,” Shiro murmurs, gentle but convincing.

Keith doesn’t say anything, but he slowly removes himself from the embrace, caressing Shiro’s arms just a bit as he pulls away. Once Keith has put some distance between their bodies, Shiro turns to properly face him face him. He takes comfort in that face that is still familiar despite how Keith’s grown in Shiro’s absence; in Keith’s beautiful eyes, his long dark lashes, delicate cheekbones and soft mouth. It all grounds him, to just see and know the lovely young man Keith grew into. Shiro even welcomes the heat in his cheeks, in his body, as he looks at Keith, feeling the ghost of his warm body still lingering on his skin.

“Do…do you want me to go now?” Keith asks, lowering his eyes demurely. But as soon as his eyes reach a certain point, the whole expression on Keith’s face transforms in a matter of seconds. His eyes widen bigger than Shiro thinks he’s ever seen them as his eyebrows make their way up to his hairline, and his cheeks turn an almost alarming shade of red. Without saying a word, Keith yanks his eyes to somewhere at his side instead.

It’s while watching his strange reaction that Shiro feels his stomach drop down to his knees and his own cheeks heat up. He didn’t have quite enough self-awareness to realize it before, but now that feeling is returning to his body, there is a familiar and embarrassing sensation around his nether regions. He doesn’t have to look down to ascertain the fact he has a bit of a chub, even in the cool air of the bathroom.

“S-sorry!” Shiro cries, quickly turning his body away from Keith’s line of sight. Bare as he is before his best friend, he’s compelled to do whatever he can to not have his semi be so obvious. He averts his eyes too, feeling the tips of his ears burning and his heart beating with a mix of arousal and shame.

“It’s okay,” Keith says in a rush, still not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I mean…it’s just your body reacting. I don’t…you probably haven’t been touched in a while, right? It’s natural.” There’s a pause. “I-I mean, touched in general, I don’t just mean like-”

“Keith.” Shiro rubs his face down with his hand, willing his blush to settle. “It’s fine. I know what you mean.”

Honestly, Shiro is grateful for Keith’s attempts to try and not make a big deal out of all of this, even with his own clear embarrassment. At least Shiro won’t have to go out of his way with his attempts to explain why he got an awkward boner from his lightly-dressed best friend hugging him as he himself was naked.

“…So, do you want me to go?” Keith murmurs after a moment, slowly moving to look at Shiro from beneath his lashes. With his cheeks still flushed, the effect is unimaginably alluring, and Shiro has to swallow around his suddenly dry throat. “I could wash your hair for you. It might help you feel better.”

Shiro blinks. That was the last thing he imagined Keith would offer, after what just occurred. He thought Keith would be in a hurry to leave him, to let some of the dust settle so they can work through their individual awkwardness in peace. But instead, Keith is offering to stay if Shiro wants him to, to even help him wash. It’s even likely  _ because  _ of what just happened that Keith is staying. He knows Shiro is touch-starved and wants to help.

The thought makes Shiro smile. “You can do that, if you want,” he says. There is no way he’s letting Keith’s kindness and bravery to go to waste. He puts on a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. “You’ve already seen it all, after all. No reason for you to leave now.”

Keith’s cheeks turn a darker shade of red, but he doesn’t look away this time, instead meeting Shiro’s eyes head-on with a determined nod. It’s followed by equally determined movements as Keith takes off his shirt and shorts. The sight makes Shiro’s heart jump into his throat, even though Keith leaves his underwear on for modesty’s sake. His soulmark is stark against the skin of his right shoulder. Even Shiro hasn’t seen it bared like this for himself that many times, since it’s in a place that is fairly easy to keep covered up, and Keith has always been private about it. He’s only really ever shown it to people he really trusts, wearing elbow-length shirts even during gym sessions to avoid slip-ups.

The sight of the familiar words on Keith’s skin isn’t the only thing making Shiro’s breath catch though. The last time Shiro had seen Keith this close to being naked was during that one deliriously happy and hot summer with the Holts. Seeing him just as bare again now only serves to highlight all the differences in his appearance Shiro had already been noticing. Despite their earlier easy intimacy and embraces, Keith looks like a practically different person now, with his slender but grown body, dark hair thick on his legs.

As Shiro’s eyes make their way up Keith’s legs to his stomach and torso, what he sees reminds him of something his thoughts glazed over briefly but didn’t get to explore from everything else.

“Keith, have you been eating?” Shiro asks with concern, even as he finally moves to step into the shower stall in the corner of the bathroom. “You look thin.”

“I’m fine,” Keith says, but no matter how much he’s changed, no matter how long they’ve been apart, Shiro still knows him too well. He can tell Keith is saying that as an evasion, can tell it’s near a lie from the tone that laces his voice. “I just hit my growth spurt – about time, dammit – and I couldn’t eat enough to catch up. It’ll fix itself soon enough.”

“Are you sure that’s all that is?” Shiro says as he turns the shower knob, hot water coming down on him. He can’t help the sigh that escapes him at the feel of it pouring against his skin, through his hair; the way the heat relaxes his muscles, eases his pains and weariness. Shiro briefly wonders where Keith gets the water out here, since he can’t quite tell where the pipes of the room lead. It’s probably directly from the ground water beneath their feet. His father must’ve designed it all.

Shiro takes a moment to just enjoy the feeling of his first hot shower in so long, since Keith doesn’t seem to be keen on rushing him, before continuing, “Keith, you need to remember to take care of yourself. You can’t make it at the Garrison if you don’t eat. You need to keep up your strength.”

For a moment, Keith doesn’t say anything. Shiro figures he’s just musing on his words, the way he’s prone to sometimes, so he focuses on the shower again for a bit, before turning the pouring water off so Keith can wash his hair. Shiro moves to sit down at the bottom of the shower to give Keith better access, trying to ignore how close their positions make the back of his head to be to a very specific part of Keith, still covered by his underwear.

He sees Keith reach for a bottle of shampoo from the corner of his eye, can hear him pour some on his hands. Keith still doesn’t say anything as he begins lathering Shiro’s hair with the shampoo, gently running his calloused fingers across Shiro’s scalp. The sensation makes Shiro shiver and sigh in contentment. He closes his eyes for a bit, losing himself in the sensation. It’s such an intimate way of touching someone, and yet it feels so natural between the two of them. He could just let himself fall asleep right here and trust Keith would take care of him.

“That doesn’t really matter anymore,” Keith says after several minutes of working on Shiro’s hair, making Shiro jump just a little. He hadn’t expected Keith to say anything to his earlier point, thinking the matter of his weight had been dropped with how peaceful and quiet everything seemed.

But Shiro’s surprise is not quite enough to deter him now that the matter has been brought up again. “What doesn’t?”

“Me making it at the Garrison,” Keith says, brushing off some of the bubbles threatening to spill down Shiro’s forehead.

Shiro blinks. “What do you mean?” he asks. “Do you think you’ll you be in trouble for helping me?”

“That’s not it,” Keith says. “And even if it was, I still would’ve come. The Garrison can go fuck itself.” He pauses. Shiro wishes he could see his face, but Keith’s hands on his head are keeping him from turning around, despite their gentleness. “But the reason it doesn’t matter is because I don’t attend the Garrison anymore.”

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?” he asks. “Why? How?”

“Things happened,” Keith says, removing his hands from Shiro’s hair, and shifting to grab the detachable shower head from above instead. He turns it on, starting to pour water through Shiro’s locks, letting the shampoo rinse off. “I’ve been out here for a while now.”

Shiro is suddenly bursting with all the questions, still reeling with the force of the bomb Keith just dropped on him. How could Keith have left the Garrison? What in the world could’ve happened for him to leave? The Garrison had been Keith’s dream, traveling to space had meant as much to him as it did for Shiro.

He’d been on the right track when Shiro left. He’d been doing so well; he’d been getting good grades, not getting into trouble and he had friends. He had people who could’ve supported him even through the losses of Shiro, Matt and Sam; who could’ve helped him cope and keep up with his studies. Keith had been set to graduate with high marks and recommendations as one of the best cadet pilots in the Garrison history. What could’ve taken place in the wake of Shiro’s absence that had destroyed all that? And what’s more  – why is he out here seemingly by himself when the Holts had practically adopted him by the time Shiro left. Surely Katie and Colleen wouldn’t have turned their backs on him in the wake of all their shared losses.

“What things?” Shiro asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “Keith…”

“Just things,” Keith says, and although his tone remains kind, there is a slight edge to it that tells Shiro he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. And as curious as Shiro is, he also doesn’t want to pry, to cause Keith pain by forcing him to talk about whatever it is that happened. He may not even have the right to, after all this time. That thought brings up another, safer but no less important question for him to ask Keith for now, though.

“Keith,” Shiro begins. “How long has it been? How much time has passed?”

Keith’s quiet for a moment, working his fingers through Shiro’s hair, before answering, “It’s been just about a year since the Persephone landed on Kerberos.”

A year. They landed on Kerberos around August, and it’s been a year since then. That means Keith’s about to turn nineteen in the fall, only a few short months from now. He would’ve graduated this spring if whatever went wrong hadn’t happened. How much has he been through in all these months? Shiro feels like he can’t ever even hope to catch up, to make up for the pain his absence must’ve caused Keith.

As Keith finishes up rinsing the shampoo from Shiro’s hair, he turns the shower off. Wordlessly, Shiro observes his movements, turning his head to follow Keith with his eyes as he grabs a sponge and some liquid soap. It makes Shiro briefly raise an eyebrow, but not buying actual body wash must be a way for Keith to save up on supplies. He doesn’t comment on it as Keith pours some of the soap onto the sponge. He begins to gently rub it on Shiro’s skin, focusing on his shoulders and back in what almost becomes a soft massage. Shiro barely avoids quivering with how good it feels, how incredible it is to be touched with such kindness by someone again – by Keith in particular – whose fingers are both comforting and so intoxicating on his body.

Shiro’s pretty sure Keith can tell he’s breathing hard now, and that his semi has grown into a full-blown erection, despite him trying to hide it between his bent legs. Thankfully Keith still doesn’t make it into an issue, doesn’t even tell Shiro to part his legs, and just wordlessly works around and over him with his gentle hands that almost feel like they’re healing him. And Shiro can’t bring himself to tell Keith to stop, no matter how inappropriate or strange the situation. Not when Shiro feels like he might cry if Keith stops touching him now.

Shiro’s not sure how much time passes. Keith must’ve washed his body many times over by now. The coolness of the bathroom is starting to make him shiver, and his body is starting to cramp up from his continued position on the floor.

Keith seems to be thinking something similar, because he hands Shiro the sponge over his shoulder, leaning against his back for leverage to reach his hands.

“Here,” Keith says softly. “You can finish up by yourself, can’t you?”

Shiro feels his cheeks heat up, but he takes the sponge. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Shiro feels more than sees Keith getting to his feet beside him, before turning to observe him over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna go back upstairs and get dressed,” Keith says as moves to pick up both his sleepwear and the clothes he brought for Shiro. He folds the dark clothes neatly back into a pile before setting them down on top of the closed toilet bowl. “Take as much time as you need.”

Shiro can feel his blush spread and deepen as he can’t help but wonder if Keith is trying to insinuate he rub one out. But despite his boner, he’s not really in the mood to do much about it. Even without the factor of how weird it would feel – this is his best friend’s bathroom and Shiro got hard by said best friend having his hands on him.

After Keith goes, despite his longing for the warmth of the shower, Shiro turns the water to cold until any remaining urge to touch himself dies down.

…

After he’s finished, Shiro moves to put on the clothes Keith provided for him. He’s never seen them before, but they’re just about his size. He wonders where they came from, and why Keith has them when they’re clearly too big for him. The clothes smell freshly washed and in good condition, if not quite new. The pants are sleek and the vest is sturdy. He even has gloves to hide his soulmark if he so wishes. Clean and in these clothes, Shiro can’t help but feel like a newly born man.

Ready and dressed, his mind feeling more settled, Shiro makes his way out of the bathroom. Keith is waiting for him outside, sitting on the steps leading up to his porch, now also fully dressed. Shiro can’t help the small smile that escapes him as he sees Keith is wearing the red-and-white jacket Shiro got him for his seventeenth birthday. It feels nice to know Keith liked it enough to still wear it.  

“Hey,” Shiro says as he walks over to Keith.

“Hey,” Keith says, standing up with a small smile. “The others are awake. Hunk made all of us some oatmeal for breakfast if you want some.”

Shiro’s never been big on oatmeal, but now that Keith has mentioned food, he feels like he couldn’t imagine anything better with the way his stomach begins growling. “Sounds great.”

Keith smiles a bit wider and turns on his heel towards the little house. Shiro follows, stepping up to the porch and then through the front door. As he’d suspected earlier that morning, the main floor of the house only contains one room functioning as a living room, with a small corner on the right serving as a kitchen. The cracks in the walls inside betray the place’s true age, though Keith has evidently tried to cover the worst of them up with posters. The house is quite the mess too, with old radio equipment stacked in corners, books and papers everywhere in non-organized piles. With the small space, the chaos makes the room seem fuller than it actually is, when in truth the actual number of furniture is very spartan. There’s really only an old-looking couch and some stone blocks holding up a plank of wood to make a coffee table.

The three other people in the room certainly don’t make the room seem bigger, standing and studying the only other thing of note in the room: a corkboard filled unevenly with photographs, notes, and drawings, all of them tied together by strings like in an old crime film. As Shiro and Keith enter, the three turn to face them.

“H-hey, Shiro,” a young man Shiro quickly recognizes as Hunk says, giving him a nervous smile. He’s grown since Shiro last saw him too; filled out, with longer bangs tied back by the usual band around his forehead. “Good to see you up.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Shiro says, managing a smile, stepping over to shake the boy’s hand. “Thanks for your help before, all of you.”

“Hey, anything for you, Shiro,” Lance says, stepping over to shake Shiro’s hand as well, though not before giving the prosthetic a short look. Shiro chooses not to mention it.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ve met,” Lance says quickly, turning towards the smallest person in the room. “This is Pidge Gunderson, he’s our team navigator at the Garrison.”

Shiro blinks at the name, Matt’s voice suddenly ringing in his ears saying it as he turns to take a better look for himself at the kid dressed in green and white, with golden brown hair cropped short and wearing very familiar glasses. It gives him a pause, but he manages to hide it as he takes a closer look. Because there’s no way for him to mistake that face, not when it’s so similar to the one he spent months with in a very small space vessel, when that face is wearing glasses identical to Matt’s former pair. Shiro may not have known Katie as well as the rest of the Holt family, but he can still tell without a doubt in his mind that the person in front of him now is Matt’s younger sibling.

Shiro’s not sure what Pidge is doing here, but he assumes that the younger Holt is looking for information on Matt and Sam. Pidge is also Keith’s friend; the two of them must’ve kept in contact over these months after all. At least that’s what Shiro hopes. He isn’t sure if the name and appearance are just a disguise or a reflection of Pidge’s gender identity.

Either way, Shiro has no right to out him here. Perhaps if he gets the chance to talk to Pidge alone, he could ask, but for now, he must act oblivious. 

“Hello,” Shiro says kindly, offering Pidge his hand. “I’m Shiro.”

“Nice to meet you,” Pidge says, giving him a bit of a smile and barely glancing at the arm. Shiro’s sure Pidge remembers him, and is aware Shiro recognizes him as well. He even feels like a moment of understanding passes between them as their eyes meet. As Pidge gives Shiro what he thinks is a grateful smile, he returns it, silently telling him he’ll keep Pidge’s secret. “So, did anyone else from your crew make it out?”

“I’m not sure,” Shiro answers honestly, though he wishes more than anything he had more information to give Pidge. He can’t imagine what he must be feeling about all this. To have Shiro returned and not his family with him. “I remember the mission and being captured. After that it’s just bits and pieces.”

Keith approaches them from the direction of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of oatmeal. Giving him a flash of determined eyes, he practically shoves it to Shiro. “Here, eat.”

The bowl feels warm on Shiro’s hand as he looks down at it and sees the oatmeal has been enhanced with some berries and honey. He smiles a little. Keith must’ve remembered he likes sweets.

As he eagerly begins to dig in with the spoon in the bowl, desperate again to fill his stomach now that he’s been reminded how empty it is, Shiro turns back to look at the corkboard curiously. “What is all of this?”

Keith sighs, a strange, almost saddened look taking over his eyes as he steps closer to the board himself. “After I left the Garrison, I was kind of…lost, and found myself drawn out to this place,” he says so softly that Shiro can’t bring himself to ask more about the events leading up to that again, even though he’s almost bursting with the need to know. He shoves another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth just so he has a reason to keep his mouth shut. “It’s like something, some energy, was telling me to search.”

“For what?” Shiro asks after he swallows the oatmeal.

“Well, I didn’t really know at the time…until I stumbled across  _ this  _ area,” Keith says, pressing his fingers around the place on the map that he has circled multiple times. Inside the circles, he has evidently written ‘energy source.’ “It’s an outcropping of giant boulders with caves covered in these ancient markings.”

Keith gestures to the pictures pinned to the board, both photographs and hand-drawn sketches. They all seem to depict some form of a large feline. “Each tells a slightly different story about a blue lion, but they all share clues leading to some event, some arrival happening last night.”

He turns to Shiro, and his eyes that meet Shiro’s remain in that soft, vulnerable state that makes Shiro’s heart ache. “Then you showed up.”

“Maybe it’s that Voltron thing Pidge was getting all those readings about last night,” Hunk says. “The ones about the, you know,  _ aliens _ .”

The word echoes in Shiro’s mind, beating like a dum,  _ Voltron, Voltron, Voltron _ . He’s heard that word before, though he can’t quite remember the voice that spoke it. He turns to Hunk with widened eyes. “Voltron?” he asks, suddenly breathless, his head swimming. He can almost feel the yellow eyes at the back of his had again. “I…I remember that word. I think it’s some kind of a weapon the aliens are looking for, but I don’t know why. Whatever it is, I think we need to find it before they do.”

“Well, last night I was rummaging through Pidge’s stuff,” Hunk says, grabbing a backpack off the floor, rummaging through it to showcase his point, “and I started reading his diary,” he continues, holding up a red notebook.

“ _ What?! _ ” Pidge cries, moving to grab the diary back. “What were you doing in my stuff?!”

“Oh, I was looking for a candy bar,” Hunk says, shrugging and lighthearted. “But I noticed that the repeating series of numbers the aliens are searching for looks a lot like a Fraunhofer line.”

“A what?” Keith asks, blinking.

“It’s a number describing the emission spectrum of an element,” Hunk says, turning to Keith with a serious look on his face, brows furrowed. “Only this element doesn’t exist on Earth. I thought it might be this Voltron. And I think I can build a machine to look for it, like a Voltron Geiger counter.” He smiles, taking something out of his pocket. “It’s pretty fascinating really. The wavelength looks like this,” he holds up a piece of paper for all of them to see, depicting a diagram that almost looks like a soundwave.

Keith peers at it, before holding out his hand. “Hunk, can I see that for a second?”

“Uh, sure, buddy,” Hunk says, handing it over.

Keith doesn’t say anything further, just holds the paper by the corkboard, lining the wavelength on it with a large picture of a mountain range he has pinned on the board. They’re an almost perfect match in shape and size.

“Whoa,” Lance gasps, mouth falling open. “That’s freaky.”

“We better get to work then,” Pidge says. “There’s no time to waste.”

“You can use anything I have in here to build your thing,” Keith says, gesturing around to the equipment with his hands. “These things are pretty old, but they all still work. Dad took really good care of them, and I’ve fixed up anything that needed work.” 

“Cool,” Hunk says, stepping past Keith over to the radio equipment in the corner with a look on his face that wouldn’t be out of place on a kid in a candy store. “Gotta ask though, what was your Dad even doing with all this stuff?”

“I’m not sure,” Keith says, lowering his eyes as his mouth twists into a frown. “He used to tap into them in the evenings, like he was listening for something, and make notes. But he never spoke to me about it. He always just said he’d explain it when I got older.” He lets out a breath. “Of course, it became yet another thing he couldn’t tell me when I was older.”

Shiro reaches over to place a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. It earns him a grateful, if sad smile, before Keith’s face grows more serious. “Shiro, finish your oatmeal. We’ll need to go hiking around that mountain range once Hunk finishes making this thing. You’ll need your strength.”

Shiro smiles. “Yessir,” he says, before putting another spoonful in his mouth.

…

Since it seems Hunk and Pidge require no assistance from him and Keith busies himself with helping them find parts and cleaning the breakfast dishes, Shiro chooses to step outside to the porch for a bit of air. He hasn’t gotten to feel the sun on his skin for so long. He’s been stuck inside for months without the freedom of an open space ahead of him like this. He may get plenty of air when they go hiking later, but it doesn’t matter. Shiro wants to enjoy this brief moment of peace while he still can, and also stay out of the way where he’s not needed. He has a distinct feeling in his gut that this might be the last occasion of either peace or not being needed he’ll have in a while.

He watches the sun make its way up in the sky, feels the warmth of the day starting to grow. It feels comforting to know the sun still rises even after everything. That the world keeps turning no matter what.

Shiro hears and sees the front door of the house open. As he turns to properly look, he sees Lance stepping out. Shiro makes himself swallow the disappointment he feels over the fact that it’s not Keith.

“Hi,” Lance greets, giving him a short wave and an eager smile. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Feel free,” Shiro says, gesturing to the remaining space beside him on the bench.

Lance gives him an even wider smile before accepting his invitation to plunk himself next to Shiro.

“So, how is it?” Lance asks as he leans back casually on the bench. “Being back?”

Shiro blinks, but puts on a smile. “It’s been good. Great, even,” he says. “Though the return was admittedly a little rough.” He chuckles. 

“Yeah, true. Those guys from the Garrison didn’t exactly serve as the best possible welcoming committee,” Lance says, sounding sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes, letting the brief whisper of wind calm him a little. “But it did feel good to see Keith again, to see so many familiar faces again.” He pauses, licking his lips in thought, before turning to look at Lance properly again. “Hey, Lance, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything for you,” Lance says, sitting up a bit straighter. “What’s up?”

“Keith keeps saying he left the Garrison,” Shiro says. “But he won’t tell me anything more. It seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Keith,” Lance says, his voice softening a little. “I didn’t witness much of it firsthand, but I know it was all really hard on Mullet. I can’t imagine he’d like to think back on it much.”

“Which is why I don’t want to bother him with it,” Shiro says. “But I also want to know. I have lost so much time. I feel like I’ve missed so much. And I just want to start catching up so I can help him.”

“I get it, man,” Lance says. “I gotta warn you though, this may not be easy for you to hear either. And I can only give you what I know. Like I said, I wasn’t there myself. Hunk was though, and he gave me a pretty thorough summary.”

“I can work with that,” Shiro says. He swallows. He probably shouldn’t be going behind Keith’s back like this, but...there are just so many gaps in his knowledge now. This is the single one he may even have a  _ chance _ to fill, to try and make better.

“Okay.” Lance nods. “Just…don’t tell Mullet I told you, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Okay then,” Lance says. “Well, um…when the Kerberos mission was declared missing and you guys were believed to be dead, everyone was obviously pretty shaken up.” Shiro gives a nod to show he’s listening. “I didn’t see Keith around for a few days; Hunk told me he’d been informed about all of it in private along with the remaining members of the Holt family. Keith left to go stay with them for a bit after that, to mourn in peace and all. The semester had just started so the Garrison okayed it I guess.

“Well, he came back, but we could all tell he was just…not fine. Not himself. It was like he was constantly walking with this cloud hanging over his head, brooding and sullen and just…angry. He still went to class, didn’t even get into trouble like I feel like everyone was expecting, but he hardly did any of his homework, he got way too into it with hand-to-hand in PE…Hunk had to make him eat during mealtimes.”

Shiro swallows. He knew Keith looked too thin. He knew it.

“I think we were all kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop by that point,” Lance continues. “And eventually…it did.”

Shiro takes in a deep breath, steeling himself. “What happened?”

“Apparently Keith found out Lieutenant Williams was to be in charge of arranging your funeral,” Lance says.

Shiro looks up, blinking. “Adam?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “I guess they felt he knew you best or something? Or maybe it was because Keith wasn’t eighteen yet? I don’t really know. But Keith found out about it and he just kinda…lost it, I guess. Hunk told me he got white as a sheet and seemed to get this weird blank look in his eyes, and then he just wordlessly marched over to the officer’s lounge to look for Lieutenant Williams.

“Well, he found him alright, and then I guess he just...lost it. Hunk said he basically grabbed Williams by the collar and started screaming in his face about how he didn’t deserve to arrange your funeral, how there shouldn’t even  _ be  _ a funeral because you weren’t dead – he was in pretty deep denial, though I guess in the end he was right after all, since you’re here now – and instead the Garrison should send out a rescue team to find you guys.”

Lance turns towards Shiro, giving him a serious look that seems out of place on his face. “This next part won’t be easy to hear.”

Shiro swallows. “I can take it.”

“Well, according to Hunk, Williams told Keith you were gone and that he needed to accept that, and Hunk said that he called Mullet your charity case or something like that too.”

A flame of anger bursts to life inside of Shiro, and he takes a few calming, slow breaths for himself. He now understands why Lance said that wouldn’t be easy for him to hear. He wants to say he’s surprised over what Adam said and did to Keith in his absence, but he’s not. He’s only appalled.

“Mullet tried to punch Williams at that, but Hunk was there to hold him back. He told me Williams basically mocked Keith, said he could have him thrown out for any little misdemeanor as his superior officer. And that since it’s Keith, it was only a matter of time before that happened. And that Keith should know his place.”

Shiro squeezes his hands into tight fists, trying to cool off the flames gnawing at his insides, fighting the image of punching Adam himself. He had never been bitter towards him, not even during their break-up. But he can’t forgive the way Adam hurt Keith, how callously he abused his grief to get back at him for something Keith didn’t even do.

“Anyway, a couple of days passed, and I guess Keith decided to leave on his own after that,” Lance says. “He told Hunk that there wasn’t any point in him staying at the Garrison anymore, not when they were lying about everything and not giving him any answers, not when he could be thrown out at any minute anyway. He said he was gonna find out the truth on his own. And I guess he did, eventually, since you’re here and he knew to come rescue you.”

Shiro takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “What about you guys? How did you know to come along? Did Keith contact you?”

“Oh, no,” Lance says, shaking his head shortly. “This is the first time I’ve seen Keith in months. He’s probably been out here since he left. If he hadn’t been texting Hunk occasionally, we probably would’ve thought he was dead.” Shiro’s stomach drops down to his knees. “No, what happened was…”

But Shiro can barely hear Lance anymore, even as he goes over the story of Pidge tracking alien signals, the three of them seeing Shiro’s pod crashing from the Garrison and going to investigate. All he can think about is everything Keith has been through in his absence. How much he’d underestimated how much his loss would affect him.

Shiro had thought he’d be leaving Keith with enough to handle himself even if he was gone. But apparently the man he once trusted and loved the most was the reason Keith has been alone out here all this time. And once again, Keith never gave up on him, when Adam was so ready to.

_ As many times as it takes _ , indeed.

…

It’s not long after Lance finishes up with the rest of his story that Keith peeks his head out of the front door, letting them know Pidge and Hunk have finished building their little gadget. They all collectively pack up some water and food bars, before heading off towards the mountain range in Keith’s photograph. Pidge and Hunk lead the way, handling their newly assembled equipment to look for a signal or a reading.

Shiro sticks to the back of the group with Keith, and as soon as the other three put a bit of distance between them, he takes the opportunity to talk to him.

“Keith,” he says. “I heard about how you left the Garrison.”

Keith huffs, tightening his jaw in anger, eyes flashing. “Lance doesn’t know when to keep his damn mouth shut.”

“Don’t be angry with him,” Shiro says, since the cat is out of the bag. He knows he should’ve been a little more discreet, to not have pried. To have waited for Keith to speak to him. But he can’t help the way he feels like Keith not outright telling him has created a distance between the two of them that hasn’t been there for a long time. It’s been a while since Keith kept secrets from him like this. And he hates that he feels like he needs to. “I asked him.”

“He still shouldn’t have told you,” Keith hisses out. “But whatever, I guess. We have bigger things to worry about now.” Keith crosses his arms. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with what happened. It’s over, it’s done, it’s in the past.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” Shiro says firmly, reaching over to touch Keith’s shoulder, to stop him in place so Shiro can look at him. Keith won’t meet his eyes, but Shiro continues on regardless. “Keith, the Garrison meant so much to you. I hate that Adam treated you like that once I was gone; I hate that you gave it up for that.”

“I didn’t give it up for him!” Keith cries, turning to him with flaming, fiery eyes. “I gave it up because  _ you  _ were gone, and I couldn’t live with myself there anymore! They were all blaming you for the Kerberos mission, and I knew it wasn’t true, but no one would believe me. I knew you weren’t gone, but no one would listen to me. No one would help me! They all just dropped you like it was nothing, like nothing you had done for them ever mattered, and I needed to know! I couldn’t stay there anymore if I wanted to know the truth, if I wanted to find you again.”

Sudden but not unexpected warmth floods Shiro’s chest from Keith’s passionate cry. “Keith…”

“Hey, guys,” Hunk speaks up from a little ways off, where he and the rest of the group must have wandered while Keith and Shiro were talking. “Hate to disrupt your lovers’ spat, but I’m getting a reading.”

“Just a minute!” Keith says, before turning to Shiro. “We’re not finished with this conversation.”

Shiro nods. “Later.”

Despite the fact that Keith’s footsteps are heavy with frustration and anger, he doesn’t react to Shiro walking beside him to catch up to the others. Shiro smiles, taking it for the peace offering it is.

Whatever they’re about to find, whatever they will discover in these mountains…Shiro is with Keith now. He’s found him again. He can look out for him again and protect him. And Keith can do the same for him in return. They’re not alone anymore.

No matter what they’re about to walk into, Shiro’s going to try his damndest that it stays that way.


End file.
